Buffy awoke to the sound of his voice as it whispered over her flushed skin, kissing her awake.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in Angelus’ arms, dawn less than an hour away, after his brand of making her feel better: mind-blowing sex that successfully drove all thoughts but those of him from her mind. It had worked, for a brief time anyway, and Buffy accepted the comfort Angelus had shown and was eternally grateful for it.

‘I will avenge you, Willow,’ her thoughts whispered now, a vow to her dead friend, ‘I will destroy the Turok-Han and the First, I swear.’

Willow’s death scream echoed through her and Angel’s voice even now resonated within her but Buffy couldn’t focus on that. Not yet at least. Fight first, mourn later. 

Soon though, her time was running out. Power not her own flowed though her, made her so much more, but she didn’t need it to tell her to hurry. She could no longer indulge in her lover’s body, no long pretend that she was free enough to do so without consequences. Willow was dead and while Angelus did have a point in that she probably couldn’t have stopped it, that didn’t go far towards making Buffy feel better. 

She was the slayer, she was all the slayers. And maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance that she could have saved Willow had she been there. But she hadn’t and it was one more on an ever increasing list of ‘what-ifs’ that plagued Buffy’s life. The fact that she needed Angel to stop the First was one thing, the fact that she had basked in Angelus’ amorous and carnal attentions was quite another. 

Whatever this Blood Harvest was going to accomplish – and it was always her experience that titles with the words blood and or harvest were never good – it was coming to a culmination soon. Buffy knew that and still did nothing to stop Angelus as his mouth and hands built her higher towards her orgasm. She knew it was coming soon and that stopping it would require her total concentration, but that didn’t mean much as Buffy felt his face shift and his fangs lightly scrape the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. 

Too soon, the harvest was coming too soon for her to continue to indulge in her demon lover. No matter how much she just wanted to stay in bed– or on any convenient surface for that matter – with him for the rest of eternity. 

But then Angelus’ elongated teeth clamped on an engorged nipple and all thoughts but those of him and the intense feelings he engendered in her flew from her head. 

Slow seduction, soft and tender, he tasted every part of her as if they hadn’t just spent the last hours screwing each other’s brains out. As her orgasm washed over her, and Buffy cried out his name, she flipped them over and said against his smirking lips, “My turn.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The next time Buffy opened her eyes Angelus was still asleep, his arms clamped tight around her, a sign of possession, a sign of affection. 

Blinking blurry eyes, she looked around the room she hadn’t bothered to notice before. It was light, sunlight streamed in and for one heart stopping moment when Buffy thought for sure she’d lose both demon and soul, she panicked. Reason prevailed and the slayer smiled ruefully. 

Wasn’t modern technology wonderful? It allowed the illusion of sunlight to filter through with none of those harmful effects. Whoever invented those windows must have been a vampire, Buffy thought as she turned in her lover’s arms to look at him in the sun. 

He stirred, waking, but Buffy wasn’t ready for him to do so. She wanted, needed, a few more minutes to herself, to gather and regroup for what came next. Leaning close, she kissed his lips softly, a hand smoothing the planes of his face. 

“Shh, love,” she whispered in a gentle voice, “Go back to sleep, I’m not going anyplace.” 

He purred then for a moment and Buffy was hard pressed not to straddle his lean hips and ride him until they were both too tired to think about the next minute. But she didn’t and, ignoring her arousal, watched him sleep for a moment more. 

Beautiful, breathtakingly so. His pale skin glowed in the light making him look almost ethereal, much like the name he had chosen for himself. Tracing the lines and planes of his body, Buffy closed her eyes as the false sense of warmth radiated from his normally cool skin. Was it from the sunlight? Or was it from her body, her warmth seeping in to heat his coolness? 

Before…before she had loved doing that, loved making him warm. They had only had that one opportunity to make love, but Buffy clearly remembered how his skin absorbed her scalding heat, cooling her, heating him. Oh, they had fooled around, afterwards, after he had returned to her, pushing the limits of the curse, and his skin had always warmed to hers, but it wasn’t the same, not nearly. 

Hand still hovering inches over his skin, Buffy slowly traced his beloved face. How could she have thought she could live without him? Whoever occupied this body was hers and that was all there was to it. How could she have allowed him to leave, how had she survived even a minute away from him? 

She hadn’t, not in the way it counted, but that wasn’t the point. 

What was the point then? Buffy had no idea, all she knew was that her idyllic interlude with her demon lover was close to an end and reality once more intruded upon them. Was it too much, she wondered, to just be able to quit, to leave behind responsibility and destiny and just…leave? 

Apparently, yes, because she had lost Willow… 

But Buffy couldn’t think on that now, because she had to save the world once more, had to protect the innocent and keep the First from winning. 

Pulling her hand, reluctantly, away from Angelus’ skin, she went back to looking at her surroundings. 

Large, the room was large – but she expected nothing less. Darkly furnished, there were splashes of reds and purples on cushions and pillows, curtains and sheets. Naturally the fabrics were expensive, silks, satins, velvets, and Angelus’ obligatory leather. That brought a smile to her lips and Buffy formed a lovely little mental image of Angelus in nothing but leather pants. 

Licking her lips and forcing her mind back to the task at hand, she noted the one exit; a set of double doors that seemed to be made of strong wood. She could probably break them down, but they were beautifully carved, Celtic mythological designs decorating them. Too beautiful to be destroyed. 

Another door led to a bathroom and from her angle Buffy thought it was big enough to qualify as most people’s living rooms. There was a third door but it was partially closed and Buffy couldn’t see into it. A dressing room, perhaps? Or just another way out? But no, that made no sense. Why have two ways out when Angelus obviously felt secure enough in his own home? Maybe it led to the rest of Angel’s team?

Now there was a possibility. 

The scar on her neck throbbed in proximity to Angelus, her blood called out for him as did her body but Buffy ignored all that and focused in the rest of the penthouse. Breathing deeply, clearing her mind from all distractions, especially the one sleeping next to her. Pool the power that was hers, that was her, focus it, focus… 

And try not to give into temptation and attempt to locate Willow… 

The unmistakable pulse of Angel/Angelus flowed through her but so different than she was used to. Her body, her blood, mind, soul, heart, still knew its mate, but Buffy sensed different things from him now. Things she wasn’t sure came from his changes or hers. Ultimately it was unimportant for they were both irreversibly changed and that was that. 

Yes, the vampire lying next to her was different, but he was still hers. 

No time to think on that now, concentrate, focus. Connor. Power and light blinded her momentarily as Buffy centered on the boy. The offspring of two demons? Even if one had a soul at the time of conception Buffy found it hard to believe. The fact that she was immensely jealous that Angel had a child with someone other than her wasn’t the point. Exactly. 

What was the child, then? 

‘Everything,’ a voice resonated in her mind. 

Buffy didn’t question it; on some level she already knew that. There was – hopefully – time enough for that later.  One thing at a time; she just couldn’t deal with anything else. 

Angelus stirred next to her, drawing her more tightly against the solid wall of his chest. Settling more comfortably into him and not questioning it, Buffy concentrated on the rest of the rooms. The mystery that was Connor could wait until she ascertained the status of the rest of Angel’s team. 

Rapidly fading energies came from one area; the once bright promise of hope and good. Who was that? Cordelia? Possibly, probably, but Buffy wasn’t sure, couldn’t be with so many conflicting things coming at her from all directions. Two more human signatures and one non-vamp demon came crowded together. Buffy had no idea who those could be, she didn’t know Angel’s team well enough to discern who was who and she didn’t know who remained alive. 

Just as she was relaxing her focus, resting once more against Angelus, Buffy felt him. Angel’s presence screamed through her with a blinding clarity. Familiarity, hope, promise, pain, loss, love, love, love… 

‘I love you,’ he whispered, ‘Forever. And I’m sorry.’ 

Before Buffy could even begin to think of formulating a response to that, so surprised was she that Angel had contacted her – if it could be called that – Angelus awoke. “What are you doing, love?” He asked in a deceptively mild voice. 

Startled, Buffy looked at the naked demon confused. At least that was true and the honesty of that emotion shone clear through. “What?” Buffy asked, blinking to refocus her eyes on him. Seeing that he was still waiting for an answer she said truthfully, “Watching you sleep.” And she had been…just not at that particular moment. 

He didn’t look convinced but said nothing against her words. Pinning her beneath him, Angelus attacked her lips instead, a bruising kiss that was meant to show ownership. Had he heard Angel as well? Was this a jealous display to prove to all three of them that he, Angelus, and only he had Buffy? 

“There are still several hours left until sunset, lover, why don’t you show me how much you want me?” 

Arrogant bastard, Buffy thought even as her body responded to both his own and his words. Then again, she had no idea what was going to happen to Angel once the spell was completed – should it work but let’s not go there – it was probably best to do it as close to sunset as feasible. 

This way they could leave as soon as Angel recovered from the spell. They were needed in Sunnydale as quickly as possible – whatever was left of her town and friends – with as many of Angel’s team as possible to stop the First. Angelus’ cool tongue traced the path of her ribs causing Buffy’s thought’s to transfer once again to him and away from her duty. 

A duty that haunted her often enough and would no doubt crash down upon her as soon as she returned to Sunnydale. Xander, Willow, so many dead, friends who had only tried to help her in this fight. Her fight. I’m sorry, she whispered to them, I’m so very sorry for letting you down. 

And then she gave herself over to her lover because only he could make her pain less. 

What better way, she wondered as her mind clouded with passion, was there then to spend the day making love with your lover? Souls not withstanding. And it would ensure that Angelus not torture Angel’s team any more than he undoubtedly already had. There had to be a way, Buffy supposed, for her to get some kind of message to them, telling them of her plan and to be as ready as they could be when she finished the spell. 

What she needed, Buffy thought as they changed positions and her mouth glided over Angelus cool flesh, tongue flicking out to tease and taste, was a reasonable excuse for some time alone. Maybe after she finished her exploration of his body.
~~~~~~~~~~
Her hair was clinging to her face and neck, her breath erratic as she tried to control her heart rate. 

Damn, but he could move. Gotta love that vamp stamina. Hers was impressive, too, but Buffy thought that in this instance Angelus had her beat. Not that she hadn’t loved every intimate pleasurable second of it, but she needed a minute. Maybe several of them. 

“We’d kill each other,” Buffy said as her breathing slowed and her body cooled and her mind purposely blanked to anything else but the moment. Later she’d mourn, later. “If we spent all day every day in bed like this, we’d kill each other.” 

She placed her smaller hand over his large cool one as it slowly caressed her stomach; his grin was lazy and full of masculine pride as he watched her. His eyes were blazing with lust though they had just sated that. Oh, yeah, Buffy thought, they’d kill each other. 

“Possibly, lover, but we’d have some wonderful…” he leaned over to kiss the scar on her neck, “Erotic,” his lips trailed across the tops of her breasts, “Nights. I can picture you in a multitude of brazen and wanton poses, spread across the sheets; your body opened for me, your delectable ass enticingly in the air, my marks over your body.” He said as his hand moved lower, teasing her curls. His lips moved to her hardened nipples, teasing the peaks with his tongue and breath. 

“Can you picture it, lover,” he asked as his fingers twisted her clit, shooting pleasure through her in a shocking wave of desire. “Endless days, eternal nights…you and me and anything we can possibly think of.” 

Buffy was having a hard time thinking of anything right now but her own pleasure and what Angelus’ hands were doing to her. There was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that tried to remind her of her obligations, but she refused to concentrate on it enough to remember what those obligations were. They would come due all too soon and she wanted only this last reminder before that happened. 

Words flowed over her as he continued his assault on her senses, all her senses and Angelus expertly manipulated her body to his personal tune. And sing her body did, in a way she had experienced only with Angel…only with the body next to her. The hands, large and cool, as they plunged into her, the mouth, firm and sexy as it captured her own lips in a kiss that was sure to devour her. The body the mere sight of which aroused Buffy unbearably. 

She had no notion of anything outside the bed, anything outside the private world Angelus created for her, for them. Only pure feeling existed, exquisite sensation and acute awareness for her lover. Buffy was mindless in her need, willing to do anything, agree to whatever Angelus wanted so long as he continued and please, oh please, just let her body find that release… 

But Angelus knew this and manipulated her to his own ends. 

He knew that Buffy had somehow harnessed the absolute power of the slayers, had somehow trapped all that in her tiny body, was furious at her for doing so but that punishment would come later, after he turned her. Willow, the wily witch, had no doubt come up with that idea. Too bad he couldn’t kill her himself, Angelus still had a lot of anger at the girl for giving him back the unwanted present of the soul. 

The question became, then, did Buffy become THE SLAYER to stop him, Angelus, now a direct descendant of the Turok-Han? Or was it another reason? A reason that had to do with her battle against the First? Possibly, no doubt there were two motivations in Buffy’s decision, but Angelus didn’t want to waste anymore time with her trying to figure that out. 

It was hard enough convincing her that she should wait until nightfall so that he could at least see she made it to Sunnydale safely. Buffy had given in entirely too easily and Angelus was suspicious. 

He knew that whatever she needed to do had to be accomplished quickly. Knew that her time was running out as surely as his own was should she be allowed to succeed. Though he had no firm idea what she had come to LA to do, the master vampire knew that she never would have left Sunnydale in the questionable hands of Faith with the First Evil running around if it hadn’t been important. 

His one goal…well, his secondary one, was to see that her purpose was not accomplished. Was to see that she failed in whatever it was she had come to LA to do; to no doubt find a way to re-soul him. His primary goal was her complete and total willing surrender. 

She was so close to that first goal he could taste it. 

“Angelus, love, please!” The words escaped her lips and brought a feral smiled to his mouth, pride, arrogance, satisfaction warred within him as he heard his love, his mate, the only being in the entire cosmos worthy of him shout those words. 

He flipped her over then, slamming into her from behind before she had a chance to gather her bearings. Buffy cried out in pleasure, in pain as he pumped in and out of her slick heat. He would miss that, Angelus thought in a small part of his mind that could still rationally think and wasn’t completely consumed with the slayer under him.

He would miss her heat, that inferno that threatened to engulf him with every touch, every kiss, every glance. But he would turn her; there was no doubt of that. He’d turn her and make her the first slayer vampire, his mate in every sense of the word and his equal. 

But first he wanted her. 

Feeling his climax approaching as another wave of pleasure crashed over Buffy, Angelus clamped blunt teeth on her neck, unerringly finding the scar from so long ago. His face shifted and his fangs slipped into her neck. The powerful blood that was as intoxicating as her body flowed down his throat as he greedily gulped the precious liquid. 

Angelus thrust once more into her and felt his own climax explode through him. Reluctantly removing his fangs as he shouted her name, restraining himself for the moment so as not to turn her just yet, he collapsed on top of Buffy who was too limp and sated herself to do more than move her head to the side for air. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said after several long moments had passed. “We’d kill each other.” 

Her only response was a weak but agreeing chuckle from the vampire over her as he rolled off her satiated body. 

And now that most of her brain was cleared from the sexual haze that perpetually surrounded her every time she was near him, Buffy remembered her mission and her vow to her fallen friend. A wave of sadness swept through her and she wondered, for a brief moment, if she could do this. If she had the strength to effectively kill one lover for another. 

If she could take Angelus within her and hold him there for eternity. 

Pushing that sadness, that almost unbearable heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm her, to a far corner of her heart, Buffy rolled to the end of the bed and stood on wobbly legs. She’d think on it later, much later; should she survive, should anything survive, then and only then would Buffy take out all the hurt and pain and love and need she felt for the man – both parts of him – out and cherish them. 

And then she’s put them back into that special box in her heart and seal it forever. 

“Where do you think you’re going, lover?” Angelus asked in a lazy voice that held more than a hint of promise.

Looking at him over her shoulder, Buffy smiled back at him, infusing as much cocky aggression and blatant sexuality in her voice as she could manage. “To the bathroom. Some of us are still human, you know.” 

“Oh I know, lover. But it’s only a temporary ailment.” 

She studied him for a minute more but didn’t say anything to his bold statement. There was a very large part of her that wanted nothing more then to spend their eternity together. But the part of Buffy that was Slayer, that was all the slayers, knew that what needed to be done required Angelus to be banished from his body and wouldn’t let her veer off her path. Wouldn’t let her embrace the darkness; spend the rest of time with her dark lover someplace far away from memories and responsibility. 

Turning once more to the bathroom, Buffy shut the door just enough so as to not arouse his suspicions. She really did have to go, but she needed to send her message to the rest of Angel’s team, first. They needed to be prepared.
~~~~~~~~~~
Cordelia received her message in the form of a vision. 

It was ironic that she got one, a vision that was, because ever since being kidnapped by Angelus her visions only came when he was raping her. But this one slammed through her with an intensity that surprised the weakened seer even more, both physically and mentally. 

Buffy, it seemed, had arrived in LA and was on one of her famous rescue missions. The snarky comment that Cordy wanted to make never made it past her lips and she was once more reminded of what Angelus had done to her. Her mind, however, spewed forth a litany of curses against the handsome vampire. 

It seemed the time had come for whatever plan Doyle had to be put forth.
*~*
Connor was busy concentrating on his newfound power. 

When Buffy’s short – I’m here to rescue you – message found him he lost all attention and the several objects in his room that hadn’t been nailed down and had been floating midair crashed to the floor with a resounding noise. 

Though he had no idea who she really was, Doyle had told him enough about Buffy the Vampire Slayer to know that the girl was on their side – or was their side, he wasn’t sure – and was going to need his help. Actually, if all went according to what Doyle said, she was going to need it on more than one front.

Too bad the dead former seer hadn’t bothered to tell Connor what those fronts were. 

But he was ready, of that he was sure, and he knew that whatever was happening it was tonight. For their time was running out.
*~*
Wesley was unconscious again, the pain in his body too much for his conscious mind to handle. Just as well, Gunn thought as he catalogued his own injuries, Wes’s whimpering was getting aggravating. Angelus hadn’t been as negligent to the street fighter as Gunn had hoped and the man now sported several deep lacerations, a swollen eye, and more bruises than he thought he had body parts. 

It was more feeling than anything else, when Buffy’s short message played through his head. She was here, in the building, actually, and was about to do something that would help to free them all. If Gunn was reading her emotions right it was also colossally stupid and exceedingly dangerous. Well, who said life wasn’t full of risks and chances? No one of his acquaintance. 

Though he had never met the girl, Gunn had heard enough stories about Buffy to know that when she was on a rampage it was serious. And it seemed that whatever the chick had planned for tonight it was something big. As in apocalypse sized. 

“Man I hate those,” He said through swollen lips. But he, too, was ready, though he had no idea for what he was reading himself. 

Gunn supposed he could fill Wesley in – if the damn man ever regained consciousness – and Lorne, maybe…if the demon ever got over his pity-fest and rejoined them.
*~*
Buffy opened her eyes and looked cautiously around the huge bathroom. 

Well. That was different. Her life certainly wasn’t lacking for experiences, but this telepathy mind expanding thing or whatever she had just done was…new. And not at all comfortable. She hadn’t a headache, but her brain felt as if had been squeezed back into her skull. 

She was actually hoping for a bit more, maybe something with words – on her part to express her plan, on theirs so she’d know they received her message – but the images would have to do. She just hoped she hit everyone she was supposed to and not the ones she wasn’t. Not knowing exactly who was alive and who wasn’t made it harder, but there was no help for that now. 

Quickly using the facilities, Buffy looked at herself in the mirror before rejoining her lover. 

Her skin was more translucent, holding an ethereal quality that surprised the slayer. Her eyes glowed with a brightness she wasn’t entirely sure was solely from the mind casting spell she had just preformed. Was it part of her changes from the Slayer spell, or had Angelus done that to her?

The mark on her neck, the one proclaiming that she was his for all to see, told her it was him, that Angelus had more to do with it than Buffy knew. That their consummation of their love/lust/need/obsession had irrevocably bound her to him. (Them?) But there was something more to it and Buffy couldn’t figure out what that something was. 

“Buffy?” Angelus’ voice floated to her, impatient and suspicious. 

Just how long had she been in the bathroom, anyway? Quickly turning on the faucet washing her hands and splashing cold water on her face, Buffy briefly thought of taking a shower but dismissed that idea. Pleasurable as that sounded there wasn’t enough time. She needed to do the spell now; maybe if Angel took a while to recover from having his demon ripped out of him and his soul forever anchored to his body – as it should have been in the first damn place – she’d have a chance at a quick freshening. 

Opening the door, Buffy walked into the bedroom to see Angelus lounging negligently on the bed. His face was impassive but his eyes held a fire in them that sparked an answering one in her blood. God she wanted him. Wanted him as much as she ever had Angel; how was it possible to want, desire, love two totally different beings that happened to inhabit the same body? 

“Miss me already, lover?” She asked pushing these thoughts, along with the myriad other ones she had no desire to think of at the moment, to a dark part of her mind where she’d think on them later. If she had a future past the next few days then maybe… 

Not moving off the bed, Angelus held out his hand in an imperious manner. “Wouldn’t want you to try and leave before I can go with you, baby.” He said as she took his hand, obeying his command. 

Glancing out the windows, Buffy again marveled at the fact that they allowed sunlight to filter in, while noting that it was time. Turning back to Angelus, Buffy lowered herself gracefully to a kneeling position by the bed. She needed to do the spell now, the sun was setting and she was literally out of time. Looking as submissive as she could make herself, Buffy looked at her lover through her lashes, head bent. 

“Maybe I don’t want to leave,” she said in a whisper. It was infused with enough truth for credibility and enough passionate lust to spark Angelus’ interest. “Maybe I want to stay here…with you.” 

That may have been pushing it too far for Angelus laughed, “For an eternity, lover?” The words were sarcastic, unbelieving and Buffy quickly laughed herself. 

“For the evening,” she said, her voice dropping lower into a husky drawl. “The rest should take care of itself.”

“And what of the reason you came to my city in the first place?” Though he was unbearably aroused at the sight of his mate kneeling on the floor, naked and submissive to his every wish, Angelus was still cautious. Cautious enough not to mention Willow, too. 

“Who’s to say that reason isn’t lying before me? Who’s to say that the sole reason I’m here is for you…my love.” She tried to say ‘master’ but the word stuck in her throat. Besides, that would really give her game away. He’d never buy that. 

“Now,” she said, head still bowed, mischievous green eyes sparkling under her thick lashes, “What would you like, what is it you desire?” 

A thousand images flashed through Angelus’ mind, all centered on Buffy, all centered on what he and Buffy could do, could feel. But that was for later. Tonight was for only two things: Making her forget the soul that was Angel ever existed… 

And turning her.

Moving faster than she was expecting, Angelus hauled her atop him. “As much as I enjoy you in the submission position, lover, and as many times as I plan on seeing you in that delightful position again – and soon – there are things I need to teach you first. And your very first lesson,” he said as his fingers found her already wet opening, sliding into her with an ease he had to groan at. “Is the fast hard fuck.” 

With that, Angelus removed his fingers and impaled her onto his achingly hard cock, causing them both to gasp at the sensations, at the sheer rightness of the joining. It was hard, it was fast, and it could even be considered fucking. But Buffy didn’t think on any of that, so caught up in her body, in his. She rode him hard, slamming onto him again and again as his fingers harshly pinched her nipples, causing her to cry out in a combination of pleasure and pain. 

His large cool hands spanned her hips, forcing her to an ever faster pace, leaving bruises in his wake though neither cared about that, either. For Angelus it was a sign of his possession of her; for Buffy, though she would later be hard pressed to admit it aloud, it was a sign of her lover’s ownership and she loved it. 

Angelus groaned her name as Buffy ground her hips to his, her nails scraping down his chest leaving bloody tracks in her wake. Head thrown back, lips parted for breath, Buffy chanted his name as he flipped them over, pounding into her harder, faster, more, moremoremore…

A rainbow of colors, sounds, feelings swept over Buffy and the name of Angelus echoed off the walls of the room. Her body clenched about his, drawing him deeper even as Angelus’ face shifted, his elongated teeth biting into her neck. Her name was a roar of pleasure the instant he felt her blood on his tongue and Angelus had to release her neck to shout it. 

Still wildly pumping into her still quaking body, Angelus again drank. And as another orgasm crashed through her, Buffy knew… 

The second Angelus slipped his fangs into Buffy’s soft neck it began. 

His intent was to drain her. 

Her intent was to bind him.

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